


College, amirite?

by Fallen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 09:09:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12055791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen/pseuds/Fallen
Summary: College, Stiles found, is a lot like riding a bike. Except the bike is duct taped to the ceiling and it's on fire.





	1. And They Were Roommates

All those movies about college are lies.

Absolute lies.

They make moving in day look flawless. People who act like they eat and shit rainbows showing you how to get to your dorm which somehow is way better than your actual room. All a marketing scheme to make kids like him go to college. Stiles could see through those corporates schemers who probably own a large share in some financial group who disperse loans. He would of ended up applying to various colleges anyways, but he was going to feel bitter. Stiles should of known all those scenes of fresh face youths moving in on their first day was a lie right off the bat. His first clue? The fact there was an absolute downpour. And was there any rainbow pony friendship is magic helpers around to help him out?

Nope.

Alright, _fine_. There were a few hiding inside the dorm house. Probably basking in their dry clothes-ness while sodden freshman like himself began to show up. Stiles knew they were laughing at him while they helped unload some of his bags. He felt positive of it when somehow between the elevator and Stiles' floor (which was the top floor) they ended up losing two of his bags.

All in all his first day on campus grounds did not match his expectations. Then he came to one horrifying conclusion.

His college was a summer camp in disguise.

They completely failed to include that in their catalog. Sure it look like a peaceful little campus smack dab in the middle of a town mostly made up of woods. Great programs and every building constructed out of red brick with green ivy engulfing nearly every side. Overall, perfect scenery for booklets given to prospective students. They just failed to mention how much _singing_ took place in the dinning hall.

At least he still had Scott, the greatest friend to end all other best friendshipdoms. With all the shenanigans they committed together in high school, Stiles could only imagine what they could make of the next four years. Might of been a tad bit easier if the two managed to be roommates. Instead, Scott ended up with someone who _said_ he was from California. Stiles saw his wardrobe. No one in California just so happened to own a peacoat and every scarf out of the latest GQ magazine. And Stiles' roommate...well...uh...

“So...you're from Arizona? That's pretty awesome.” He was going to meet his life quota of awkward today.

“I guess.” Ver-no wait, _Boyd_ he insisted on being called Boyd. Stiles had no place to judge, he did go by Stiles.

Stiles continued to rummage through a bag, no longer sure he knew what he was looking for anymore, “I lived only a few hours away from campus actually,” he offered without prompt, “Yeah so um, great town. Bit of wildlife problem but oh hey headphones, okay then.” Stiles trailed off watching as Boyd put on a pair of headphones. “Great chat. I already feel closer.”

 

.:...:.

 

“I think my roommate is plotting my death.” Stiles proclaimed the minute he stepped into Scott's room. The fact he hadn't bothered to knock didn't faze his friend. Scott's own roommate however, nearly toppled out of his chair.

Scott spun his desk chair towards the door, removing the pencil he been absently chewing on from his mouth. “I thought you said he doesn't talk to you.” Scott asked. Taking this as a full invitation to make himself comfortable Stiles flopped on the nearest bed. If he heard the sound of protest coming from Isaac, he showed no sign of it. Rather, Stiles made himself more comfortable fluffing the pillows so he could sit up right.

“Well yeah,” Stiles admitted resting his head against the headboard, “But whenever I say something he gives me a look like he wants to stuff me in a body bag.” If high school was anything to go, that happened to be a look he received on a regular basis. He should of been used to it by now.

Isaac abandoned his own work, rolling his chair closer to both Scott and Stiles.“Maybe he wants to be left alone.” he offered shrugging his shoulders.

“You're wearing a scarf while it's eighty out. Clearly I can't take your opinion seriously.” Honestly, the other day while the rest of the students sweltered, Stiles caught Isaac with his stupid fancy scarf walking around without breaking a sweat. Stiles might of hoped the curly haired hipster tripped over a shoelace.

The corner of Scott's mouth twitched, “You never know Stiles, maybe he's not big on company.” Turning back to his desk, Scott opened a drawer pulling out a notebook.

“I guess you could be right.” Stiles relented.

“ _Seriously?_ I _just_ said that.”

“Scarf.” Stiles pointed at the fabric wrapped around Isaac's neck, then towards the opened window, “Summer.” Right about now Stiles knew Isaac was only a few seconds away from walking over and pulling Stiles right off the bed. “Does that mean I have to give him space? I don't know how that's going to work with our beds only being four feet apart.”

“You could try not talking to him.” Isaac grumbled under his breath.

“Isaac. Isaac. Shhhhhh.” Now Isaac actually moved towards Stiles, “Look at the time. Gotta go. Bye Scotty.” Stiles managed to say while bolting for the door. Once he closed it behind him, he could hear Scott laughing. Bastard.

 

.:..:.

When Stiles returned to his room, he'd never seen Scott both looked so relieved and panicked before. Except maybe that time with the goat. No one talks about the goat. “Ready to go?” he asked after throwing his bag aside and nicking his ID off his desk. Scott nodded already making for the door, briefly glancing towards Boyd. “We're heading to dinner.” Stiles so kindly informed his roommate who only raised a hand in acknowledgment.

“Did you talk to that gi-”

“I think your roommate wants to kill me.” Scott blurted.

“Sure, when I say it you think it's funny.” Stiles huffed as they made their way down the stairwell. Scott shoved Stiles enough so he bumped against the railing. “What'd you do?”

“All I did was sit on his bed! I swear. But when he got into the room he just _stared_ at me until I got off!” Scott explained, “You didn't tell me I couldn't sit on his bed!”

He couldn't help it, Stiles laughed. Okay maybe he could of helped it. Frankly Scott deserved it after laughing at his own issue just a few days before. “Why didn't you sit on mine?” Scott opened his mouth to respond, “Oh right I was doing some research last night. Tough luck buddy.” Stiles clapped Scott on the back.

“Stiles!”

“I'd try to get Isaac to take the fall if I were you.”

“Dude!”

.:...:.

 

 

Once the first week of classes ended, Stiles found a comfortable medium with his roommate. They acknowledged each other, but every attempt Stiles made for conversation was quickly shot down. A few times Stiles went ahead and pretended Boyd actually spoke back to him whenever the other wore headphones. Except the last time he did that, Boyd actually heard him and uh...well maybe next time he'd wait to make sure Boyd couldn't hear him.

With Friday classes done, Stiles had a small pile of homework stacked on his desk which he was going to dutifully ignore until Sunday night. Leaning back on his (now paper free) bed, Stiles turned on his 3DS.

“What game are you playing?” for a moment Stiles thought he was hearing things before he looked up at Boyd who was waiting for a response.

Knowing his mouth was open Stiles quickly answered, “Pokemon Sun.” A giant lion beat a bat thing any day if you asked him.

Boyd opened a drawer pulling out a 3DS identical to Stiles', “Do you have a Vulpix?”

He could feel the grin spreading across his face as he sat up straighter, “Depends, do you have a Sandshrew?”

“I can get one, give me a few minutes.” Boyd flipped the screen open, “Did you already beat the Elite Four?”

“Not yet, I need to do the last trial still.” Stiles scooted to the edge of his bed.

Yeah okay. Stiles could make this whole roommate thing workout.

 


	2. Friendship is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Make friends they said. It'll be fun they said. Stop asking who they is they said.

Stiles and Scott had a routine.

On Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday, Stiles would meet up with Scott at his room to go to dinner. On Tuesdays and Fridays, they'd meet up at Stiles room and on Sundays because Scott had a part time job, Stiles would sit at their usual table in the dining hall and wait for Scott to show up. Usually on the weekdays Isaac sat with them and once in a while Boyd whenever Stiles could rope him into it. Lately a girl who Scott shared a few classes with joined them, Allison. Stiles was more than okay with this latest development because Allison happened to be friends with Lydia Martin. The strawberry queen who in less than a week managed to become the perfect poster child for their college. She made a beautiful poster. Stiles probably could of enjoyed her company more if it weren't for the jock who followed her everywhere (Jackass? Douchson? Gosh he just couldn't remember).

Sundays were pretty quiet though and typically Stiles used his time alone to beat his score in flappybird (he didn't care what anyone said that stupid bird would forever hold a spot in his heart) and pretend he didn't have homework he could be doing instead. The stupid pixel bird hit a pipe just as he got to fifteen when Stiles noticed someone sitting with him. Someone who he could only describe as “eyebrows”. The table itself was empty so Stiles normally wouldn't be surprised someone decided to take a seat there but this guy was sitting directly across from him. “Uh...hi?”

The eyebrows raised slightly, eyes looking up from the hamburger currently being dealt a heavy amount of pepper. Not that Stiles was any judge. The guy's head jerked a bit with acknowledgment before all attention returned to his plate. Honestly, Stiles always found himself in the best of company. Great talkers all of them. “Great talk.” Stiles said while slipping his phone back into his pocket, his heals pushing into the floor as he readied to leave.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted, successfully gaining the attention of everyone else in the dining-hall. If his friend notices the additional stares, he doesn't show it. “Where are you going?” he asked, his bookbag dropped to the ground, a hand already going for a chair.

“Uh.” Stiles sometimes really admired his on the spot thinking at times, this was not one of those times. Instead his eyes shifted over to the newcomer sitting on the opposite side of the table then back to Scott. Thankfully, the bearer of the floppy fringed took notice.

“Oh hey Derek!” Scott greets, the eyebrow guy lifted his hamburger as his own form of greeting. Okay...Derek. Who the hell was Derek and how come he still hadn't said a single word. “Stiles this is Derek, he's in my history class.” Scott nodded slightly at Stiles, his signature grin in place, “Do they have any spring rolls.” Stiles swore he saw Derek nod out of the corner of his eye before Scott made his way to the food.

After that, Derek sort of just became this _thing._ Stiles doesn't know how else to explain it any other way. He and Scott always found themselves doing something, whether it was attending some sort of sporting event (much to Stiles' chagrin..go team) or going into town to stock up for a night of gaming. But now it seems whenever Stiles looks away from Scott for even a moment, bam. Derek is there. Frankly, Stiles is grateful he hasn't shit his pants yet.

He knows Scott must be inviting him, which Stiles has no problem with. It's how Derek is taking Scott up on these offers which bothers him. He isn't entirely certain if Derek is really good at sneaking up on them or if he is literally waiting behind a bush or lurking in the shadows. Either option leaves a mental image which causes a good solid minute of laughing.

Then there was the whole disappearing thing. On more than one occasion, Stiles would know for a fact Derek was with them and then suddenly the spot the leather clad individual stood not a moment before was empty. During a fall festival, Stiles, Scott, Isaac, and Derek who had actually joined them by knocking at Scott's door went to an event for the festival solely due to the fact pie would be present. Because pumpkin pie is delicious and underrated and shut up.

Stiles knew Derek had been right behind him because Isaac had asked him something, probably about what scarf went best with a leather jacket. “Hey Derek, do you want any cider?” he spun around with offered cider in hand only to be met with an empty spot. Looking around to see if Derek had stepped away to look at something else, Stiles came up empty.

“How does he keep doing that? _Why_ does he keep doing that? Was he raised by ninjas?” Stiles asked gesturing his arms, successfully sloshing cider onto his hands.

Isaac glanced up from dunking his doughnut into a cup of orange juice (Stiles will never fully understand what is wrong with Isaac). “Oh yeah, Derek doesn't like crowds. He leaves when he thinks there's too many people.”

Somehow, Stiles isn't surprised to find out Derek is antisocial.

The next morning when Stiles headed down to breakfast, Derek is already at their table eating a bowl of cereal. When Stiles eventually joins him, his eyes drift down to the bowl which Derek seems to be carefully eating. It takes a moment for Stiles to figure out what he's doing to the bowl of Captain Crunch, “Why are you only eating the yellow pieces? The berries are the best part.”

“They're the desert, you're supposed to eat the yellow ones first.” Derek answers without hesitation, scooping up another spoonful of milk and yellow pieces.

“You're weird.”

 

 

.:...:.

 

Stiles is a people person. People know him. A lot of people wish they didn't know him. The fact they know him is what makes him a people person, he makes an impression. His dad would probably argue with him on his definition.

Jackson Whittemore is not a people person. The fact numerous people flock to be in his presence does not contradict this statement. Stiles is awesome, hence people person. Jackson is a bag of dicks, no one wants a bag of dicks. Normally Stiles wouldn't have to worry about being around Jackson, he could pretend he's carrying the plague and set up a wide perimeter of avoidance. The problem however, was association. Scott knew Allison, Allison's roommate and friend was Lydia, Lydia knew Jackson, therefore Jackson knew Allison, knew Scott and Stiles knew Scott. Really it tied back to being Scott's fault, but Stiles digressed.

Then there was the fact he shared a class with the aforementioned bag of dicks and the dick decided to take up a permanent seating arrangement right behind Stiles. Really went against his plague perimeter.

On the third class with Jackass, the moment the professor began speaking Stiles immediately noticed something wrong. His pen was missing. Sure, it might have been a simple bic pen, but it was his bic pen. It hadn't rolled onto the floor either. Maybe he'd lost his mind and hadn't take one out yet. Yeah, that's it.

Except the next two classes his pen went missing again and again. The second time he discovered the culprit. On his way to the desk behind Stiles, Jackson would snatch Stiles' pen from his desk before taking a seat.

“What?” Jackson asked, twirling the pen (Stiles' pen) between his fingers.

“That's my pen.” Stiles stated, “You're a pen thief.”

“So what? It's a pen Stilinski.”

Okay. War it was.

It was no secret Stiles had the habit of gnawing on writing utensils, the plastic bits of his hoodie strings, straws, etc. Now he needed to really make it obvious to one person it particular. The night before the day he shared the class with Jackson, Stiles gathered every single pen and pencil he chewed on and replaced the ones already in his bag.

Long story short, Stiles found a flaw in his plan the moment he felt a pencap ping off the back of his head. They continued the fake ritual, Stiles would leave a chewed up pen on his desk, Jackson would take it and flick the cap at Stiles. It was a partial victory.

Besides the douche presence behind him, Stiles had another reason to resent the class. This reason sitting a few rows in front of him. Matt somethingsomething. Every class Matt would find some reason or another to talk about the present subject and somehow, as if it was his God given gift, twist the subject into something completely unrelated, taking the course off track.

“I hate him.” Stiles grumbled lowly, doodling in the margins of his notebook. The desk behind him groaned.

“If he tried to crawl up the Prof's ass anymore he'd end up coming out the other end.” Jackson whispered loud enough for Stiles to hear him.

Stiles surprised himself when he snorted. “Surprised he hasn't tried to sew himself to Harris' side.” This time Jackson huffed a laugh.

They found middle ground thanks to Matt kissass. Maybe Stiles began handing Jackson a pen rather than waiting for the latter to snatch them. Maybe on the mornings of Harris' weekly “pop” quizzes Jackson brought with him an extra cup of coffee. Maybe Stiles and Jackson happened to show up at the library at the same time and their notes swapped desks every so often in attempts to compare homework. Whether they did or not, the two of them never discussed any sort of kinship outside class.

 

 

.:...:.

 

The problem with being best bros who has a sort of, not quite there but basically girlfriend is the atmosphere of awkward permeating when left alone without said bro. Stiles had no problem with Allison, in fact Stiles thought Scott really hit the sort of, not quite, etc etc jackpot even if the multiple times he caught Scott off in Allison land really started to grate on his nerves. Except Scott was their buffer, the one thing they seemingly had in common.

Thankfully, bacon is always there to lend a helping hand.

“Are you eating bacon bits?” Allison asked the moment she sat down opposite him, pointing at the bowl which was in fact filled with bacon bits.

“Maybe.” he said around a mouthful of said bacon bits. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from spitting them back into the bowl.

Allison lifted an eyebrow, giving Stiles a strange look he was quickly becoming accustomed to this afternoon, “Why? Those aren't even the good kind, they're synthetic.”

He nodded, wincing as he finally swallowed, “Fun fact, I thought it was ground beef and I wasn't going to look like an idiot dumping it all back.”

“So, instead you're going to look like an idiot eating an entire bowl of bacon bits?” She asked, a smile flitting across her face, “Why were you going to eat a bowl of ground beef.”

“Because I'm a man and that's what men do?” the unfazed look on Allison's face clearly signified she didn't buy into his bullshit. Someday he would find someone who did. “I thought it was a taco bar, I was very much misinformed.”

“Still doesn't explain why you would get a bowl of ground beef either.” Allison said, playing with her own plate of food which looked just as unappealing as a bowl of bacon bits.

“I stand by my manly explanation.” He pushed the bowl an inch towards Allison, “You know you want to try some.”

Allison leaned over the table, scooping up some of Stiles' bacon bits with her own spoon. She provided another uneasy look to both the spoon and Stiles before putting the spoon in her mouth. The look on her face completely worth all the pain Stiles was most likely going to experience because of this mishap.

“Oh my God.” Allison gurgled going for a napkin. Stiles swatted her hand away.

“That's cheating.”

With her hand covering her mouth., she gave him a look, “You're evil.”

“Thank you.”

“I bet you can't eat an avocado with soy sauce and bacon bits.”

“Bring it.”

 

.:...:.

 

Stiles literally runs into Erica on his way to class. The moment is left memorable by the fact he walks away with clay stained clothes. That's exactly how he meets Erica. She is covered head to toe in bits of clay, some even hanging from blonde strands of hair. She barely gets out an apology before she's off running in the opposite direction of Stiles.

The next time he sees Erica, the clay is replaced by a rainbow pallet of paint. Luckily this time he comes away stain free. This time around being his fault. Instead of apologizing right away, Stiles takes it upon himself to point out the yellow dap of paint on the bridge of her nose. Erica swipes it away with a red stained hand, shrugging.

The third time they run into each other, Stiles is certain fate must be laughing at them because this time around, Stiles walks away the only one with ruined clothes. For whatever reason, maybe he'll remember to ask her one day, Erica is walking around with a mason jar of walnut ink. It only took one misstep for Stiles to walk away with a no longer white shirt and ink stained hands which took _weeks_ to scrub clean. Erica apologized several times before apologizing for the fact she really had somewhere to be and just like all the other times, ran off. Perhaps a good point to bring up is the fact Stiles still absolutely no idea the name of the girl he bumped into three times already.

The fourth time, Stiles barely recognizes her.

It's not everyday he returns to his dorm only to have a gorgeous blonde already there.

Going through his comic books.

Wait a second.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Stiles managed to keep his voice level. He ends up squeaking anyways the moment she turns towards him, “You!” her clothes and skin are completely stain free, her hair and make up perfect but after two unscheduled trips to the laundry room he remembers her face. Red lips spread in a smile revealing white teeth.

“Hey, you're Boyd's roommate.” she says still smiling, “At least time I'm not covered in anything.” She jokes still looking perfectly comfortable with his stack of comics. Maybe she notices the previous purpose of his question because she picks up a volume of Batman and holds it up to him, “How did you find the first volume of War Games? I've looked everywhere and it's like they only have the second and third volume in stock.”

Stiles drops his book bag and himself to sit on the floor in front of her. “You too? It took me forever to find one. Maybe if they made the omnibus of it, that'd be better.”

She scoffed, setting the volume back into her lap before picking up another, “What's with only the first volume of the Dark Knight Returns?” she asks, waving the volume in front of Stiles' face.

“Because the first volume is awful enough, really didn't want the second to put a bitter taste in my mouth.” He replied easy enough, swatting the comic out of his face.

The blonde laughed, “Then why have it at all?”

“Are you kidding? This is part of history. One of the best portrayals of the battle between liberalism and conservatism.”

She nodded, flicking a blonde curl over her shoulder, “Alright, fair enough. I'm guessing you have an opinion on _Identity Crisis_ then?”

“How much time do you have?”

The two of them sat there, pouring over comics Stiles owned and ones they've both read. Never before had Stiles had someone to discuss with, Scott being as ignorant about pop culture as his dad. Which really says a lot of Stiles' own failings. Boyd finds them in the same position, only with a larger mess surrounding them.

“Hey Erica.” Boyd greeted also giving Stiles his customary of waving, “I guess you two already met?”

“That's your name?” Stiles blurts, he can just barely see the deadpan look Boyd gives him. Erica nods, popping the 'p' on her 'yep. Stiles holds out his hand, “Stiles, it's nice to finally meet you.”

“You too Stiles.”

 

.:..:.

 

One time Lydia actually looked at him. It was one of the most beautiful moments of his life.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I'm not actually continuing this but I found it on my computer and I think I'm funny so there you go.


End file.
